Lyrics:
stop me now before I get on a roll (danish)
Let me tell you what this pretty little dame's name is, 'cause she's kinda famous
And I hope that I don't
're doin, man
Don't give a damn if the squares don't understand
You let em tell you what to say and what to write
Your whole career'll be over by tomorrow
and I'll they want to give is a good fuck from me
Oh baby
Hippa to the hoppa and you just don't stoppa
I control Michael Jackson's Thriller
Catch him
really that original
To be honest I let go
I thought
You don't like me probably
For the times growing up
That i didn't let you follow me
Cause when you
pollinated by the "Be"
Pac called it the rose that rose from concrete
How do you define divine that finds street?
"Hip bop," the color of my leaves
Not
number one
And that's starin' down a barrel of a gun
After I smack you 'til it's
Gun powder on your tongue
Cause boy them shells get hotter than the sun
Nigga-nigga, Nigga, Nigga
You can laugh and criticize Michael Jackson if you wanna
Woody Allen molested and married his step-daughter
Same press kicking
Vanilla wafers in a villa, illest nigga alive
Michael Jackson thriller
And baby
It's amazing I'm in this maze with you
I just can't crack the code
for your record when it's selling
When it ain't, that's the end, no laughs, no friends, no girl
Just the gin you drink 'til your car spin, you think
If Michael Jackson came alive right now
He'd ask you to smoke one for him
So in his honor
You niggas Spud Webb, coming up short
Think you're Dee
're doin, man
Don't give a damn if the squares don't understand
You let em tell you what to say and what to write
Your whole career'll be over by tomorrow
comes back up like some acid reflux
Or a Michael Jackson jacket with some plastic zippers
I was zippin' through the city and I don't give a fuck
1994
the rappers don't deserve it
They only make it 'cause it sales but it's imperfect
Shout out to the producers that don't get enough credit
All these niggas
If Michael Jackson came alive right now
He'd ask you to smoke one for him
So in his honor
You niggas Spud Webb, coming up short
Think you're Dee
holding the drugs
And you can never ever see her because
And it don't stop 'til the aliens fight the robots
And all the ladies take their clothes off
watchin' the industry try and ho you
Asian Doll talkin', but shawty, I don't know you
I never met you, nor have I heard a song
And nor have I seen
every animal extinct
My money racist go Ching Ching
From the basement to a big thing
Leave me alone
Like Michael Jackson hooks the record is golden
No
a so-called dancing machine
Cause this record, is strictly for the club scene
Get Off the Wall, this ain't Michael Jackson
It's eighty-nine, it's time for some
Whether you rap or you don't rap (ha-ha-ha)
Duck 'fore you get rushed (yeah-yeah-yeah)
Get stuck fucking with us (D12)
'Cause
We still don't give
Michael, way too many hanes
Can't be the shit
Surrounded by shit stains
Can't stomach me cuz I'm that pain
I'm Omari & you're seeing a Ghost, Taylor Dane
coffee
You know my abs are solid
I never skipped a class in college
I didn't drop out of college just
To sign a record deal
Just to get dropped ten months
makers
You gon get bars straight from this
Foreigners phone like jail breaker
I get rid of your bars like bail bondsman
Since you don't wanna sit in
[Outro]
Heh, he he
If y'all don't know us
Y'all better keep our name out y'all motherfuckin mouth
Cause it's gon' get real ugly after this you feel me?
nose up like Michael Jackson
Dressin' like a bum, 'cause you don't wear slacks, and
I'm done, thanks, it's been fun practicin'
I'm done taxin'
.jpg "The Jacksons")
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